‘Simple Passion’, at around sixty pages, is not really a novel. With wide spacing between lines and with luxurious space on the borders of the page, it could be called, at best, a novella or probably a long short story. It is not clear from the book whether it is fiction or a memoir. The classification on the back cover says ‘Literature / Memoir’. The narrator of the book describes the affair she once had with a married man from a different country who was working in Paris. The only way they communicated was by phone when the man called her and told her he was going to visit her. She then waited for him to visit, anxiously preparing herself – getting the right clothes, wearing the right makeup, getting food and drink for the evening, preparing herself emotionally – but also looking forward to the visit with a lot of excitement. But then he comes, they have intimate moments together, he leaves and then she is worn out. And she starts the long agonizing wait for the next phone call from him. At some point she stops seeing her friends, going out for movies or having any kind of social life as she is waiting for her lover’s phone call, when she is not working (this was during the days before the advent of the mobile phone). The narrator’s thoughts about this whole affair comprise the rest of the book.

‘Simple Passion’ is an interesting book. There is not much of a plot here – the plot can be told in two lines. The book is mostly about the narrator’s thoughts on life, love, longing, waiting, the agony of parting. I am pretty sure it will deeply resonate with anyone who has had an affair or even with anyone who has ever been in love. Annie Ernaux’s prose is spare and simple, but there are beautiful sentences in every page. Though I read it in one sitting, I read it very slowly and enjoyed lingering over those beautiful sentences. For example, she describes the brief time she spends with her lover as :

An interval of time squeezed in between two car noises – his Renault 25 braking, then driving off again

And she describes her feelings after her lover leaves like this :

As soon as he left, I would be overcome by a wave of fatigue. I wouldn’t tidy up straight away. I would sit staring at the glasses, the plates and their leftovers, the overflowing ashtray, the clothes, the lingerie strewn all over the bedroom and the hallway, the sheets spilling over on to the carpet. I would have liked to keep that mess the way it was – a mess in which every object evoked a caress or a particular moment, forming a still-life whose intensity and pain could never, for me, be captured by any painting in a museum.

In another place the narrator describes how she used to shop for new outfits to look beautiful for her lover when he visited her the next time :

In his absence, I was only happy when I was out buying new dresses, earrings, stockings, and trying them on at home in front of the mirror – the ideal, quite impossible, being that he should see me each time in a different outfit. He would only glimpse my new blouse or pumps for a couple of minutes before they were discarded in some corner until he left. Of course I realized how pointless new clothes were in the event of his feeling desire for another woman. But presenting myself in clothes he had already seen seemed a mistake, a slackening in the quest for perfection for which I strove in my relationship with him.

In another place the narrator talks about the imperfection of communication with her lover and how paradoxically, this imperfection is sometimes perfect.

At first I was discouraged by the obvious limitations of our exchanges. These were emphasized by the fact that, although he spoke fairly good French, I could not express myself in his language. Later I realized that this situation spared me the illusion that we shared a perfect relationship, or even formed a whole. Because his French strayed slightly from standard use and because I occasionally had doubts about the meaning he gave to words, I was able to appreciate the approximate quality of our conversations. From the very beginning, and throughout the whole of our affair, I had the privilege of knowing what we all find out in the end : the man we love is a complete stranger.

Sometimes we think that writing about something which affected us deeply helps us make sense of it and is therapeutic, but the narrator of the story says something different :

I know full well that I can expect nothing from writing, which, unlike real life, rules out the unexpected. To go on writing is also a means of delaying the trauma of giving this to others to read. I hadn’t considered this eventuality while I still felt the need to write. But now that I have satisfied this need, I stare at the written pages with astonishment and something resembling shame, feelings I certainly never felt when I was living out my passion and writing about it. The prospect of publication brings me closer to people’s judgment and the “normal” values of society. (Having to answer questions such as “Is it an autobiography?” and having to justify this or that may have stopped many books from seeing the light of day, except in the form of a novel, which succeeds in saving appearances.)

At this point, sitting in front of the pages covered in my indecipherable scrawlings, which only I can interpret, I can still believe this is something private, almost childish, of no consequence whatsoever – like the declarations of love and the obscene expressions I used to write on the back of my exercise books in class, or anything else one may write calmly, in all impunity, when there is no risk of it being read. Once I start typing out the text, once it appears before me in public characters, I shall be through with innocence.

Annie Ernaux ends the book with this beautiful passage :

When I was a child, luxury was fur coats, evening dresses, and villas by the sea. Later on, I thought it meant leading the life of an intellectual. Now I feel that it is also being able to live out a passion for a man or a woman.

I have to say that I have got the ‘leading the life of an intellectual’ part right – so I can say that my life is filled with luxury, in a way 🙂

‘Simple Passion’ is a beautiful, slim gem. It is a book to be savoured over a winter evening warming oneself next to a fire having a drink. Or alternately, it can be savoured on a warm summer evening, watching the sun set, while sitting outdoors in the garden and sipping a delicious cup of tea. I want to read other books of Annie Ernaux now.

Have you read ‘Simple Passion’ by Annie Ernaux? What do you think about it?

I reviewed one of her books and you mentioned at the time you would like to read it. 🙂
I like her writing very much and after I read that book at the time I bought all of her other books. So, I’m sure, I have this one too. We had quite a discussion on the blog with Emma because she finds that Ernaux is too self -centered, revels too much about her life. Most, if not all of her books are memoirs. I like it lot. You wonderful review has put me in the mood to grab this one and read it. I’m just not sure about the French title.

I can’t believe that I forgot it, Caroline! I just went back and read your review of Ernaux’ ‘A Woman’s Story’ and I remembered how I liked it very much when I read it the first time. It was fascinating to read your conversation with Emma and others in the comments of your review. I think it takes a lot of courage to share one’s deepest thoughts and feelings in a book and I admire Ernaux for that. I want to read ‘A Woman’s Story’ now, thanks to your wonderful review, and all of Ernaux’ books. I love the fact that she writes slim books 🙂

It has happened to me before. When I read about a new to me writer but don’t get any books right away i might forget after a while.
I got a copy with her collected works and it contains at least ten books, still next to War and Peace it looks slim. 🙂
She is very courageous. I don’t see it as beeing too self-centred. In a way every writer is. They mostly draw from their experiences they just don’t always say how much of it is true. I should get back to her. I wanted to read her work chronologically and guess, this is one in the middle. But I’m not sure. It’s possible she wrote those on her parents and childhood later.

It is so wonderful that you got Ernaux’ collected works, Caroline! So jealous of you 🙂 It is an interesting idea to read her works chronologically. I sometimes do that with some writers – it is interesting to see how a writer’s themes, areas of interest and prose style have evolved across time. Happy reading! I want to read her ‘A Woman’s Story’ next.

[…] Vishy of Vishy’s Blog continues his year of reading French Literature and reviews Simple Passion by Annie Ernaux, a writer who concentrates on autobiographical narrative using bits of her life to compose narratives. Simple Passion is the story of an unnamed French woman who has a two-year affair with a married foreigner. The story is very short and seems like it would be an excellent introduction to a writer who appears to be very well-regarded in France. I am a little disappointed that her latest work is not yet translated into English as it sounds perfect for my mom. […]

It is definitely a bit melancholic, Delia. I haven’t read ‘Madame Bovary’ yet – hoping to read it sometime this year. Annie Ernaux’ books are mostly slim (a hundred pages or less) and so that makes me want to read more of her works. If you do get to read this or another book of hers, I would love to hear your thoughts on it.

Thanks Vishy, I haven’t heard of this writer before so it was good to read your review. That is a VERY short book. You’re right, it barely qualifies as a novella. I do like different lengths, though – the definitions we have are quite arbitrary, and I like it when a writer breaks out and writes something that’s too long to be a short story but too short to be a novella. From the extracts, it sounds like something I would enjoy reading.

Hey, by the way, on a separate subject, I just came across a post by Tabitha Suzuma on the music she listens to while writing. I remembered that you’d written about her several times on this blog and loved her work, so thought you might enjoy reading it:

Glad to know that you liked the review, Andrew. I hope you get to read the book and like it. Your comment on the arbitrary definitions we have on books made me think. I have seen a 70 page work, sometimes being described as a short story, a novella and a novel 🙂

Thanks for the link to the post on Tabitha Suzuma and the music she listens to. I liked that post very much. I have read three books by Suzuma – ‘Forbidden’, ‘A Note of Madness’ and ‘A Voice in the Distance’ and liked them very much. It was nice to see all of them mentioned in that post.

Hello Vishy, I know you are familiar with Emma’s blog – but do you know about her French reading list? It’s at http://bookaroundthecorner.wordpress.com/reading-lists/ and you can download it as a PDF, I have added most of the titles to my French Reading List at GoodReads. She added it to her blog a while ago now, and I am gradually working my way through her suggestions, always getting distracted by other things of course, but that’s the joy of reading, eh?
Bon voyage!
Lisa

Hi Lisa, Thanks for telling me about Emma’s French reading list. I just browsed through it and it is quite wonderful! I liked the fact that Emma added a list of books that she hasn’t read / hasn’t liked but which are regarded as good books. I found Alain-Fournier’s ‘The Lost Estate’ (‘Le Grand Meaulnes’) on that list. I hope it is just a book she hasn’t read – I read it sometime back and liked it very much. It was also interesting to find Marcel Pagnol’s ‘Marius’ on her favourites list. I saw a movie version of the book last year and liked it very much. I didn’t know that the movie was based on a book. I will save Emma’s lists to my computer. Thanks once again for the link. Happy reading!

How about is you do a similar list for books from the sub-continent? I’ve read a few, usually via the various awards, but most of the books I’ve read are by Indians & Pakistanis who’ve left their homelands and gone to the UK or US. ..

Thanks for the suggestion, Lisa. I posted a list of Indian books sometime last year. If you are interested you can find it here. You commented on that post too and gave me more suggestions 🙂 Maybe I will do a part 2 of that post sometime soon.

The first thing I’m going to do is to choose one of those Mahabarata versions to read, so that I can recognise the retellings and allusions when I come across them as you suggest. I’ve read little bits of it when I was studying SouthEast Asian history and the Hindu Empire but I think I should start by reading the whole thing. I’ll finish off Herodotus some time around the middle of this year, and then get started. BTW I don’t do Challenges any more but have you ever thought of doing an Indian Literature Week, the way I do Indigenous Literature Week in July?